The Bear Adventures
by kimchiwon
Summary: A childhood toy comes back in the form of a green-eyed enigma. Slash, AU.
1. Premise

This fic was inspired by helium man's _Bear_, a wonderful oneshot that details a possible notion that ends in—well, you just have to find out. I've written a (rather crappy) poem to summarize _Bear_, but I'm encouraging everyone to read the oneshot itself.

Here it is: ff.n(/)s(/)7530839(/)1(/)Bear

Just replace 'ff.n' with this site's url. Remove the parentheses, please! And don't forget to actually come back to this story. ;)

Main pairing: TMRHJPTMR (yes, they go _both_ ways)

Warnings: Drabble-short chapters until the plot actually starts going (meaning: about chapter 2 we're actually going to have longer chapters), time warp, alternate dimensions, morbidity, violence, time skip for this chapter, future slash, obviously AU.

Rating may go up a notch in the future chapters.

Oh, and I'm making up stuff along the way. I'll still follow canon!Tom's timeline, though.

Disclaimer: No intended copyright infringement on Harry Potter. Creative rights for _Bear_ go to helium man. Simply put, I do not own _Harry Potter_, _Bear_, nor any other item that you might find familiar in this fic.

Please enjoy!

Tom's POV.

* * *

ᵜ

The Bear Adventures

Premise

ᵜ

_There once was a bear that smelt of niceties and comforts  
New and fresh from the maker's hold  
It was gifted to a boy of only five winters  
It was hugged and kept close all moments  
But it never grew old  
For the boy so loved the bear  
He spoke of everything he felt  
Of fears  
Of dreams  
That chase his childhood  
To the bear that spoke  
But never bled  
For the bear is still a bear  
And never a human  
Though it seemed like one  
To the boy who sought love  
One day a group of jealous children  
And Mrs. Cole, the hateful woman  
Point fingers and shout evil at the little boy's lovely bear  
It had done nothing wrong, only kept the boy happy  
But it was treated with scorn for a criminal  
And burned with little care  
The boy cried and cried  
But his tears  
Are seen by blind men  
And his sobs  
Heard by deaf women  
He felt like he was of only five winters again  
And it was from then on that the boy lived no more  
As loneliness and melancholy crippled his joy  
The joy that was found with his bear  
The bear called Harry  
The bear who gave him life  
The bear who was now dead._

* * *

_The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins._

_— _Soren Kierkegaard

* * *

_ᵜ_

Tom had pushed the memories of his dear bear to the protected fortress of his mind, and he had steeled his heart. Wool's Orphanage had always been grey to him, bar Harry to warm and light up his childhood, but after the traumatizing experience of losing a friend—his _only_ friend—in the hands of cruel intentions, it had become a prison. A prison that was always set to make his life more miserable.

It was then that he started to hurt other people. His too-young mind had reasoned, '_When they had hurt me, when they had taken _Harry_ away from me, what is stopping me from hurting them, too?_' And it is with a detached sort of vindication that he hung Billy Stubbs' rabbit up the rafters, he let Mr. Cole be tripped by nothing at the top of the stairs, calmly watching as the man had stumbled and fallen, _fallen, fallen_, until he was no more. It is with this that he sweetly informed Mrs. Cole of her dead husband, a terrible glee wiggling in his chest as the head matron's eyes grew impossibly wide and fearful, and who said it was Tom's fault that the woman found herself difficulty in breathing, when he had done nothing but stand there as the matron clawed at her throat? His invisible power, though, released the woman's neck, and as relief filled her eyes Tom grew infinitely gleeful, because as he reminds her of the corpse just outside her office at the foot of the stairs, she grows pale and promptly faints. Tom hums and walks away to his room, holing up there with a book in his hand.

Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop followed him to the cave of their own accord. It wasn't Tom's fault that they couldn't protect themselves as well as Tom could command his power to hurl stones at them. It wasn't Tom's fault that they insisted on bullying him before when he has done nothing wrong to them. It was entirely his fault, however, that they tripped and nearly cracked their skulls on the rocks of the beach the cave was located at. Pity that their chaperone matrons were near to save the children in time.

Tom, for all his child-like, innocent blinks of azurites for eyes, and beautiful curls of dark, bistre hair, grew apart from humanity, and from its merciless clutches. He was a child who was born into darkness. A boy who grew up in darkness, until his bear came to hug him and accompany him and guide him to the light, but Harry, beloved Harry, was filched from his life as easy as taking candy from a babe (_but he _was_ such a weakling before, to have not protected the only thing precious to him, was he not?_).

He embraced darkness as if it was his only haven, his single protection, his lone weapon, and his sole companion. But wasn't it?

It was, and Tom plans to keep it that way. He was hurt once, but he wouldn't be hurt again. He'd make sure of it.

ᵜ

Tom Marvolo Riddle grew into his power, and had amassed a following of respectful, admiring, and fearful students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was the best of the best, and all the professors fall into the trap of his eloquent beauty and exceptional intelligence, but for one.

Albus Dumbledore had been suspicious of Tom for as long as the sixteen-year-old can remember, but the old man has no proof to attest to his suspicions. It was always Dumbledore against Tom, and never Tom against Dumbledore. The Slytherin Heir knew never to taunt the auburn-haired man, for while Tom was witty and cunning, Dumbledore was wiser still, with age and experience. Tom was arrogant, but he was no fool. He has knowledge and power to acquire yet, before he can confidently challenge the man into play.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not a man to "mess with", as the muggle saying goes. His numerous awards and titles are not for nothing, and there is grudging acceptance to be swallowed in Tom's part. It was always with bitterness that he acknowledged the man's power. Tom knew, however, that nearer comes the day that he can defeat the man and become Britain's most powerful. Dumbledore was too free-loving, too light-oriented to accomplish something only brutality and viciousness could, and Tom would prove himself to be the better man one day.

ᵜ

The diary had been made with ease, if one were to forget the incident with the half-giant, and Tom looks with tired, but proud eyes at his first creation. His death was farther and his visions, closer.

He was only sixteen. The murder was easy, and it was thrilling.

ᵜ

The hat calls out, "_SLYTHERIN!"_ and Tom's heart—and he was reminded that _he has a heart, a heart that—_beats rapidly, his slender hands clench into white fists, and his eyes widen infinitesimally, before they shut briefly and he inhales deeply, silently.

When he opens them again, azurite meets emerald, and Tom _feels_.

* * *

___ᵜ _ℰ_nd of _℘_rologue __ᵜ_

* * *

Don't forget to review! :)


	2. Till Death Do Us Part

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_ nor _Bear_.

Main pairing: TMRHJPTMR

Warnings: Time warp, alternate dimensions, morbidity, violence, I invent stuff along the way, future slash, obviously AU.

Sorry for the very short chapter. I'll try harder to make it longer next time.

Thanks so much for the alerts and favourites! Special thanks to my dear reviewers: melkkj20, Lemrinth, sarahbluerose13, semexx, Sweet Moments, Fae0306, and _Guest_.

Please enjoy!

Tom's POV.

* * *

The Bear Adventures

Chapter One

ϗ Ꭶ φ ϖ

* * *

Tom tries. He really does. But he knew from the first attempt that it was futile, and it was still futile now. Helpless, but not really.

After all, who could help someone who doesn't want any help at all?

_rest_

Tom watches from the corners of his eyes.

From day one to day endless, he watches Harry Lupin. His movements, his slights, his mannerisms; the way he sidles up the cushion that's swallowing his frame whole, the way he wrinkles his nose as his bottle-shaped spectacles slip down his nose.

Tom watches obsessively.

_crescendo_

He didn't believe at first. There was no way that a spirit of a bear—_a stuffed bear of dreams and happiness_—from the past will come back after being scorched black. Harry the Teddy Bear was killed right in front of Tom's eyes, and Harry _Lupin_, a transfer student who absolutely came from _nowhere_, was a living, breathing _human_. There was no connection between the two, except their name and that niggling feeling at the back of Tom's mind that comes up when he remembers his teddy bear or when Harry Lupin catches his attention; a feeling that is frustratingly indefinable yet utterly familiar.

Then Tom remembers that he is a wizard, in a world full of magic and secrets untold, and that when he dies he actually doesn't because his soul is anchored to the mortal world. And he was always _different_. Special. So maybe this was just a product of his extraordinary life, and maybe his teddy bear has essentially come back to life in the form of an elusive student with vibrant green eyes.

With this realization, Tom hesitates—a first in a very long time. He stews with this knowledge and observes the new student avidly. He toys with the idea of just ignoring the other male, but he never denies himself what he wants.

Harry Lupin is an enigma, and Tom has always been attracted by enigmas. Especially those that stubbornly stay so.

He debates with himself, and weighs the consequences of approaching his fellow Slytherin.

He has vowed never to get attached again. However, if Harry Lupin was indeed his bear, it was technically not a case of 'again'. Rather, he was just _reacquainting_ himself with a past treasure.

He sets his mind to knowing Harry.

_to infinity_

There was a time, not too distant, that Tom Riddle doesn't hesitate to use his charm and wits to prey on an unsuspecting victim. As far as he knows, he is still capable of this. Until time stops when Harry Lupin is near and words are taken from his lips and there is an invisible, ever-there barrier that keeps the dark-eyed young man from approaching his messy-haired Housemate.

He doesn't know what assiduously stops him, except maybe the deplorable hope that sparks within his chest and brightens his grey eyes, that he has thought long forgotten with the clean slate he has made a life of since some eleven years ago. Of course, that spark only comes along when _he _comes along, and maybe, Tom can understand why it is so.

Harry has always been his, and it will remain so for as long as he lives.

* * *

___ᵜ _ℰ_nd of ɕhapter__ᵜ_

* * *

Everything will be cleared throughout the next chapters as the plot starts, as promised.

Reviews make me happy. A happy me is a me inspired. And when I'm inspired, I write. You know what to do. :)

Oh, and the 'grey eyes' I've referred to as Tom's eyes isn't a phrase that literally describes his eye colour.


End file.
